Experimental
by SunxMoon
Summary: This is high school for Ryan Evans, who has a sour relationship with his sister, few good friendships, and a nonexistent love life. There are no dramatic break ups, no clichéd dying scenes here. This is just the story of his life, and how he found that on


Experimental

Summary: This is high school for Ryan Evans, who has a sour relationship with his sister, few good friendships, and a nonexistent love life. There are no dramatic break ups, no clichéd dying scenes here. This is just the story of his life, and how he found that one person to keep him sane.

Eventual slash Troy/Ryan. Don't like it? Don't read.

A/N: Some sentences are fragmented, as it's meant to have Ryan's inner monologue/personal thoughts invade the story at times. This is also seen through the sudden change from past to present tense. It's meant to emphasize his thoughts –and add to his snarkiness. :D

Disclaimer: Don't own High School Musical or the characters. Or any novel/music group you recognize here.

It was a typical day at East High School, involving much bustling, shoving, and general discomfort for one Ryan Evans, that's me. Okay, so I'm not exactly the most liked person in school, but I'd like to think that I am at least respected. After all, I am Sharpay's brother, although that could have something to do with my current situation.

A few weeks earlier Sharpay had gone a little bit crazy with rehearsal and generally gone bananas, for lack of a better term. Must have been something about PMS and not being near Zeke enough, I guess. Anyways, it was pretty ugly, and Sharpay had gone so berserk that she had pushed a few boxes of drama materials that had, unfortunately, landed right on basketball champion Troy Bolton. That's right; Sharpay had single-handedly crippled the one great beacon of light for our basketball team. Oh god, please. Even I'm not that dramatic; I'm just kidding. He just got a mildly sprained ankle, but he was reported to be out most of the season. The Coach said something about not wanting to pressure him and make it worse. Whatever. So now all of the basketball stars have taken it upon themselves to generally shun Sharpay and punish me, since I'm her lap dog and all. Their words, not mine, mind you.

So that explained why it seemed as though the entire school was out to get me. I mean, I suppose I couldn't blame them; they sure loved their "Golden Boy." I sighed a little as I made my way towards my locker, and noted that the number of dirty looks had dramatically increased since this morning. Just my luck. I reached my locker, and found Sharpay adjusting her hair and redoing her makeup in front of her locker. After finding my books I turned to her.

"Hey," I said.

Checking her makeup a second time she replied, "Hey. How's that new dance routine I told you coming along?"

"You're kidding, right? I mean, you gave me the routine yesterday."

Sharpay stopped to harshly snap at me, "Ryan, you know the musical's not far away; you need to give one hundred percent, get me? Oh, and can you pick up my dry cleaning today? I need to go pick out the perfect dress to complement Zeke's outfit for the dance. Thanks!"

With that she marched off in her super high platinum heels leaving me in the dust. Not even bothering to reply, I headed off to my next class only to be stopped by Chad rather abruptly. He eyed me coldly and made sure to roughly ram into my shoulder, making me drop all of my books. My shoulder was throbbing, and I bit my lip and clenched my teeth to keep from saying something I'd regret.

Picking up the books I headed off to my next class –English. Entering just a few seconds shy of the late bell I gratefully slipped into my seat without looking up. God, sometimes I hated my life. I always paid for Sharpay's "accidents," all the time and got nothing in return. I mean, she's my sister and all, and I love her I guess, but sometimes it just got to be too much. That, and my shoulder was still smarting like hell. Chad sure hadn't forgotten that their star basketball player was incapacitated because of me –he found no reason to separate Sharpay and me as we were both at fault in his eyes.

I looked up, bored with my doodling, and found that the class wasn't doing anything vaguely interesting. With that I decided I'd spend the class period doing something productive –drawing. Yeah, I know, who knew that the drama geek could also draw? I decided that my current model would be based off a random classmate. I normally draw people; since I found that drawing still life of apples was hardly fun. Scanning the classroom, I saw none other than now "dreadfully handicapped" Troy Bolton in a dead slump over his desk, apparently sleeping. Snickering to myself I thought that he would make the perfect subject. He turned with his face towards me in his sleep, and I started quickly sketching a rough outline. By the time class had ended I had a perfect image of Troy Bolton dead to the world. I had to muffle my laughter, since he looked anything but handsome there.

The class had started on an activity and I got up to look like I was actually participating, which I wasn't. I spared a glance over to Troy again to find that Jason and Zeke were playfully waking up Troy with a dignified primal yell. Sorry, but to me that's what it sounded like. I rolled my eyes and leaned against my desk, careful to conceal my drawing of Troy in my notebook.

As luck would have it, the teacher took that moment to look over and decide that I wasn't being sociable enough. Pfft, who is she to talk? The woman probably spends her Friday nights cooped up with a tub of Haagen Das and the Tyra Banks show. Honestly. Instead she demanded that I go find a partner and have a meaningful discussion about the themes of _The Great Gatsby_. Once again, whatever.

I walked over to the other students and was stared at like a fish in a petting zoo. God, why are they all so stupid? I guess you can probably tell that I have a strong aversion to social contact with these awestruck hero-worshippers. Idiots. Troy Bolton and the rest of his basketball gang were nothing to be worshipped. In my opinion they'd done enough damage to last a lifetime.

As luck would have it, Mrs. What's-her-face decided that it would be "lovely for you and Troy to work together." Pardon my French, but what shit is this? I don't normally swear, but working with the vomit-inducing (at least to me) Troy Bolton is something that should never happen.

I shuffled over to Troy's seat and uncomfortably sat down on the nearest chair. Luckily the other basketball cronies had decided they were going "to the bathroom," which is jock talk for "ditch class and get the hell out of here." Why they hadn't taken Troy with them is beyond me.

"Hey," I said, chewing on the inside of my cheek in discomfort.

He pulled his gaze away from the window and finally noticed me sitting there.

"Oh…hey."

God, could this get any more uncomfortable? Please, shoot me now, I silently begged.

"So …_The Great Gatsby_."

"Huh?" was his intelligent answer. I could tell that this was going to be painful.

"The book. You know, the book we're supposed to be discussing."

"Oh! Oh, right." He seemed very uninterested in talking to me. Can't really blame him, though. I never talked to him, and Sharpay certainly never talked to him unless it was to shoot him glares of malevolence. Yes, she's quite spiteful when she wants to be. It just happens to be most of the time.

"Do we really hafta do this? I mean, you obviously don't care, and neither do I."

"Yeah, sure. Do what you want." He looked a little surprised, and slightly insulted. With that I turned on my heel and made my way back to my desk. I opened my notebook to a fresh page and proceeded to draw my Mystery Man.

Now, I know it sounds ridiculous and clichéd, but I have a dream man and every now and then I draw him. Oh yeah, in case I forgot to mention, I'm gay. But you know I haven't always, been though. When I was little I used to like girls, but something changed along the way. I don't wanna get into it. So yeah, I'm gay, and the whole school knows it. If they don't they're either blind or just stupid. I'm pretty flamboyant about it, and a good deal of close-minded people have expressed their objection. I don't really care about them, though. I mean, I'm not going to see these people after a year or so. If they don't like me, whatever. It's their loss.

So anyways, I was busy drawing Mystery Man when I all of a sudden Troy popped up behind me and asked, "Who's that?"

I nearly had a heart attack, and jumped a little. My totally stylish white hat (which, by the way, perfectly complemented my outfit) nearly fell clean off. What in God's name was he doing over here?

"Uh…" I sputtered.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to freak you out."

After I had calmed down I eyed him suspiciously. Just what was he doing here?

I voiced my question and he looked up and said "Oh, I just felt bad about blowing you off just now."

I had to do a double take because what he said just made absolutely no sense to me. It was like he was speaking another language.

"I don't really care. Really." I dismissed him. He seemed a little disappointed and shifted so his cast was resting comfortably against my chair leg. Now I sort of felt bad for just shooting him down like that. But honestly, why was he talking to me?

"Okay, so you want to talk about the book then?"

"Eh? Oh, no. I just wanted to apologize. And I'm bored." He snuck a glance at the clock. Forty minutes left, damn.

"Ah, that explains it." It made sense that he was just killing time. I swung back around and continued drawing. I had just finished the eyes and the outline of the face, when Troy popped in again.

"No really, who is he?"

This time I turned quickly and hissed, "It's none of your business."

Slightly miffed, he frowned a little and retorted "Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Do you always have to be so inhospitable?" he snapped.

"Excuse me? _Inhospitable_?!" I nearly jumped clean out of my chair. I've been called my fair share of nasty names, but _inhospitable_? What the hell? That's like describing a toxic waste dump. And let me tell you, Ryan Evans is no toxic waste dump.

"Yeah, well. You're always shooting me down whenever I talk to you. It's like you freaking want to be hated."

His voice was getting louder, and a few students were starting to take notice. I clenched my jaw and controlled my voice. By now I was standing up and so was he. I took a challenging step forward.

"Don't be an idiot, Troy. No one wants to be hated. Dear god, are you _always_ this stupid?

This time he rose to the bait and launched himself out of the chair and attempted to punch me in the face. As luck would have it, he lost his balance half way and ended up falling over and landing half sprawled on me, with his ankle at a weird angle. Great, just great. I was going to be blamed for this too. Even though this was kind of my fault, but whatever.

The teacher had now rushed over and was freaking out and yelling at the others to help us up. I rolled my eyes and shoved Troy off of me and straightened my stylish polo shirt. Mrs. What's-her-Face was appalled by my lack of concern for Troy "Everybody Loves Me" Bolton. She then demanded that I walk Troy to the infirmary so that he could get his ankle checked. I opened my mouth to argue in protest, but she just motioned with her hand. And that's how I managed to get stuck half carrying stupid Troy Bolton around the school.

"You're an insensitive prick, he spat at me.

"Yeah, well this insensitive prick is carrying you to the damn infirmary, and if you don't shut up then I'll just leave you here in the halls."

"You wouldn't," he said in a horrified voice.

I simply let go of one of his arms and he flailed for a few seconds before I grabbed his arm again.

"Don't try me."

"God, I hate you."

"Feeling's mutual, buddy."

We walked along the hallway for a few minutes before Troy broke the silence. I was trying to focus on the sheer absurdity in the situation, and to avoid conversation.

"Listen, I'm sorry I got all mad back there."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you're sorry."

"Dude, what the hell?! At least try and accept my apology!"

"What if I don't want to?"

"What is wrong with you? I'm trying to be a nice guy here."

Our verbal exchange was quickly getting more heated, and with Troy's arm draped around my shoulder I tightened my grip in anger. I was becoming more and more agitated.

"Okay _dude_, has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I don't want you to be a nice guy to me? That I don't want to worship you and fall all over myself when ever Troy Player Extraordinaire comes along? Guess what, I don't buy your whole nice act. So save your breath."

After my little speech Troy glared at me and opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off "Here's the infirmary." I led him in and ceremoniously dropped him in the nearest bed.

"Goodbye, Bolton." I said coldly.

He sighed and replied "Seeya, Evans."

And that was that. Without looking back I headed back to class, assured everyone that yes, Troy was fine. No, he wasn't going to be hurt any worse. God, the idiots were just falling all over themselves for him. I waited for the period to end, and the whispers and glares continued. Wonderful.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch. I went to class, was stared at, ignored the teachers, and then exited. It wasn't until last period that I started feeling a little down. The staring and the boredom were starting to get to me. I started to think about what Troy had said today, if I really wanted to be hated. I mean, I know I don't, but I guess sometimes I just act weirdly. I've never been the popular one, as un-hard as that is to believe. Even though I dress flamboyantly and generally make a show out of life, I get pretty lonely sometimes. I sighed as I doodled along the side of my paper, my brow furrowed. Was I such an unpleasant person to be around? My left hand twitched, a clear sign that I was upset. I shouldn't have let such a comment from Troy bother me so much. Now that I thought about it, though, I couldn't name three people that I was close to. Not three. It was more than depressing, it was downright sad. My hand twitched again. Was I doing something wrong? Was it them or me? Well too bad, I wasn't about to change myself anytime soon.

Throughout my stormy reverie my margin doodle had turned into a full blown drawing. I vigorously shaded the background to my first still life in a long while, an image of a lone tree with stream beside it. The rest of the day passed agonizingly slowly. I couldn't wait to return home to just relax, possibly do homework, and muse.

After the last period ended, I rushed to my locker, got my books, and closed it. Sharpay spent today hanging out with Zeke before his practice, so I just turned around to walk home. As I turned around, I saw Gabriella Montez waving me down. I lifted an eyebrow and leaned against my locker.

She shuffled up to me and asked breathlessly, "Hey Ryan, how are you?"

"Fine. What do you need?" I answered tersely, still in a bad mood.

"Oh. Actually I wanted to know if you could help me. There's this dance competition that I've been signed up for, but I don't know a thing about it. Could you teach us?"

"Just let me think it over, ok?" I replied, and walked away.

"We'd really appreciate it, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see." I was both tired and eager to get away. I didn't pay much attention to her, and strode out of the school.

Later, at home I flopped down on my bed, popped in a CD from Snow Patrol and generally felt sorry for myself. I tried everything from writing a little to clear my thoughts, to stuffing myself full of all the food in the refrigerator, but nothing worked. My mood was steadily plummeting, and I decided the only way to get away from it all was to leave the house entirely.

Leaving the posh mansion in just a pair of fashionable jeans and a plain white shirt, I walked at a brisk pace. I found myself at the old play ground Sharpay and I used to frequent when we were younger. I smiled a little at the thought, reminiscing about how things used to be. Sharpay and I used to be close, the way a brother and sister should be. Eventually things changed, and we grew apart. There was no great event that caused a rift between us; it was just that life took us down different paths. She no longer confided in me, and I no longer bothered to really talk to her.

I sauntered over to the sandbox, where I proceeded to sit down and just sat there, thinking. I ran my hands through the sand, missing all it represented. When someone sat down beside me, I almost thought it was her. But it wasn't, and that was enough to solidify the knot in my throat.

A little girl was sitting next to me, looking at me curiously, her pig tails bouncing cutely. Her eyes were wide with questions, gazing at me. She couldn't have been more than seven. Her demeanor reminded me of a younger Sharpay, so I humored her.

"Hi there."

"Hello. What are you doing here?"

"I'm thinking about stuff. Stuff that I wish I could change."

She tilted her head to the side, "What's the matter? You look so sad."

At first I didn't realize how she knew, but she continued "Your eyes are really sad. You should cheer up and come play with me."

Nonplussed at the sudden offer, I rose and joined her in creating buildings with the sand. I laughed a little as her sand mound collapsed, and she pouted, stepping on mine in the process. Mock outraged I got up and chased her around, finally stopping to catch my breath a while later.

"I like you. You're a good guy. You shouldn't be so sad 'cuz I think you look better smiling." She said, abruptly.

"Thanks, I like you too. You're a nice kid." I replied, with a smile.

"I'm not a kid, you know. I'm a lady, and one day I'm going to be a star." she said, as she spun around in circles, giggling all the way.

A sad smile graced my lips, and I said softly "Yeah, I'm sure you will be."

We talked a little bit more about the sky, the weekend, rocks, and dancing before I decided to head home.

"Thanks for hanging out with me," I offered.

"Yep, I had fun! Seeya!" she replied, running a little while off.

I watched her go, and felt slightly comforted. Feeling my spirits lifted, even temporarily, I returned to the mansion. Upon entering I ran upstairs to take a shower, had dinner with the family, and returned to my room. I did some homework, drew a little in my notebook, and fell asleep later.


End file.
